A Deposition From Love

I was foretold, your rebell sex,
Nor love, nor pitty knew;
And with what scorn you use to vex
Poor hearts that humbly sue;
Yet I believd, to crown our pain,
Could we the fortress win,
The happy Lover sure should gain
A Paradise within:
I thought Loves plagues, like Dragons sate,
Only to fright us at the gate.

But I did enter, and enjoy
What happy Lovers prove;
For I could kiss, and sport, and toy,
And taste those sweets of love;
Which had they but a lasting state,
Or if in Celias brest
The force of love might not abate,
Jove were too mean a guest.
But now her breach of faith, farre more
Afflicts, than did her scorn before.

Hard fate! to have been once possest,
As victor, of a heart
Atchievd with labour, and unrest,
And then forcd to depart.
If the stout Foe will not resigne
When I besiege a Town,
I lose, but what was never mine;
But he that is cast down
From enjoyd beauty, feels a woe,
Only deposed Kings can know.

Thomas Carew

Thomas Carew was an English poet, among the 'Cavalier' group of Caroline poets that included Richard Lovelace, John Suckling, and Robert Herrick. Renowned for his lyrical intensity and elegance, Carew's verse often explored themes of love and beauty. His works include 'A Rapture,' considered one of the great erotic poems in English, and 'An Elegy upon the Death of the Dean of St Paul's, Dr John Donne,' a tribute to his friend and mentor. Carew's influence is noted among contemporaries and later poets.

Thomas Carew

Ingrateful Beauty Threatened

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

Song - Ask Me No More Where Jove Bestows

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

Know, Celia, Since Thou Art So Proud

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

The Spring

Thomas Carew, Simple Poetry

English

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My Mistress Commanding Me To Return Her Letters.

So grieves th' adventurous merchant, when he throws
All the long toil'd-for treasure his ship stows
Into the angry main, to save from wrack
Himself and men, as I grieve to give back
These letters: yet so powerful is your sway
As if you bid me die, I must obey.
Go then, blest papers, you shall kiss those hands
That gave you freedom, but hold me in bands;
Which with a touch did give you life, but I,
Because I may not touch those hands, must die.
Methinks, as if they knew they should be sent
Home to their native soil from banishment;
I see them smile, like dying saints that know
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When you return, pray tell your sovereign
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Disdain Returned

He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combind,
Kindle never-dying fires.
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.

No tears, Celia, now shall win
My resolvd heart to return;
I have searchd thy soul within,
And find nought, but pride, and scorn;
I have learnd thy arts, and now
Can disdain as much as thou.
Some power, in my revenge, convey
That love to her I cast away.

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The Face At The Casement

    If ever joy leave
An abiding sting of sorrow,
So befell it on the morrow
    Of that May eve . . .

    The travelled sun dropped
To the north-west, low and lower,
The pony's trot grew slower,
    And then we stopped.

    "This cosy house just by
I must call at for a minute,
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    Who soon will die.

    "He wished to marry me,
So I am bound, when I drive near him,
To inquire, if but to cheer him,
    How he may be."

    A message was sent in,
And wordlessly we waited,
Till some one came and stated
    The bulletin.

    And that the sufferer said,
For her call no words could thank her;
As his angel he must rank her
    Till life's spark fled.

    Slowly we dro...

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A Sweet Contention between Love, his Mistress, and Beauty

Love and my mistress were at strife
    Who had the greatest power on me:
Betwixt them both, oh, what a life!
    Nay, what a death is this to be!

She said, she did it with her eye;
    He said, he did it with his dart;
Betwixt them both (a silly wretch!)
    'Tis I that have the wounded heart.

She said, she only spake the word
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He said, he only gave the sound
    That enter'd heart without defence.

She said, her beauty was the mark
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He said, he only made the mist
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She said, that only for her sake,
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To My Inconstant Mistress

When thou, poor excommunicate
From all the joys of love, shalt see
The full reward and glorious fate
Which my strong faith shall purchase me,
Then curse thine own inconstancy.

A fairer hand than thine shall cure
That heart, which thy false oaths did wound;
And to my soul, a soul more pure
Than thine shall by Love's hand be bound,
And both with equal glory crown'd.

Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain
To Love, as I did once to thee;
When all thy tears shall be as vain
As mine were then, for thou shalt be
Damn'd for thy false apostasy.

Thomas Carew

To A Lady That Desired I Would Love Her

Now you have freely given me leave to love,
What will you do?
Shall I your mirth, or passion move,
When I begin to woo;
Will you torment, or scorn, or love me too?

Each petty beauty can disdain, and I
Spite of your hate
Without your leave can see, and die;
Dispense a nobler fate!
Tis easy to destroy, you may create.

Then give me leave to love, and love me too
Not with design
To raise, as Loves cursed rebels do,
When puling poets whine,
Fame to their beauty, from their blubbered eyne.

Grief is a puddle, and reflects not clear
Your beautys rays;
Joys are pure streams, your eyes appear
Sullen in sadder lays;
In cheerful numbers they shine bright with praise,

Which shall not mention to express you fair,
Wounds, f...

Thomas Carew